


Oaths

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oaths & Vows, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ignis may never have the chance to make grand gestures for his Prince before the kingdom, but he'll swear his oaths all the same.





	Oaths

“I promise.”

The ceremony had been the grand affair they had expected, they had planned. The sobriety of the throne room balanced out later by the celebrations that had been planned for weeks. No one had really wanted the fuss, nor the audience that lined the gallery to witness every stuttering response to the calm, rehearsed vows and speeches. 

But it was tradition. 

The oaths the Shields swore were matters of public records. They could be taken and analysed and reviewed centuries later through the archives. The earliest records of the oaths and promises made between King and Shield had been copied and re-copied through the ages— with all the same imagery and themes and vows echoing through time since the first Shield swore his loyalty to the Founder King. Copies of each notable speech had littered Noctis’ apartment for the past week; words scattered across every surface as he and Gladio worked to find their own voices. As they made up their own promises, their own oaths, the words that would be remembered and recorded in the Halls of History for as long as the kingdom stood. 

Ignis had tried not to be jealous of the attention it got them. Of the expectations shouldered by them both, and the upcoming, very public, celebrations neither of them could escape. It was tradition for the Crown Prince’s eighteenth birthday. One of the first responsibilities assumed under his title was to promise to care for the lives of those who mattered to him. Who served him. Who he could serve as faithfully. 

It was tradition for the Crown Prince to swear his service to his Shield, just as much as it was to hear the oaths promised to him. 

Ignis tried not to be jealous. 

He stood in his place, and watched his friend kneel before their Prince. He listened to the words, knowing every confident promise after weeks of listening to them rehearse. He stood, rooted to his place with the other Council members, dressed in a uniform befitting his novice station, and ran through the lines word by word. 

He imagined it was him there, kneeling before where Noctis stood— the mask of the aloof Prince firmly in place to hide the uneasy fidgeting of his hands that Ignis knew wanted to reach for the pages of notes piled on the table back at the apartment. He imagined that he was speaking his own words to Noctis, before the audience gathered. Before the King. 

He thought of the first time he met Noctis in this room. Before King Regis, who spoke of guidance and brotherhood. 

“I promise.”

He might never speak his oaths before the King. He might never make his vows like Gladio— with the expectations of his loyalty and position in the royal household weighing him down before the throne and keeping him on his feet before the kingdom. He might never have the chance to confess before the whole of Lucis, with the cameras on him the same way they focused now on the newly sworn Shield. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I will, all the same.” He would utter the promises himself, in private, when all the eyes of Lucis were distracted. He would make his vows in the shadows of the hallowed Citadel halls, where they were too quiet to echo through the ages. He would speak his words, soft and warm between them in the comforts of their bed and to break the silence of the apartment. “Hear my oaths, highness. Noct.”

Noctis’ small nod was all he needed. The smile was all he wanted. 

He had spent most of his life trying to protect that smile. 

“Noctis,” the Shields’ speeches never used names— they were pompous, grand, declarations of station and fealties and titles, meant to stand the tests of time. Ignis was not a Shield; “I promise to always stand by your side.”

The smile that graced Noctis’ lips in the dim light of the quiet apartment announced the interruption. Uniforms were shed on the way to the bedroom, hands moving to ease the remnants of the formalities between them. Lips chasing soft breaths and laughs. “Whether I want you to or not.”

“Hush,” Ignis eased their way, guided through the darkened rooms by habit and instinct. “I swear, Noct, to stand by your side and protect you. No matter your path in life. If you’ll have me.”

Noctis’ laugh was not wholly unexpected— the whole formal ceremony had been suppressed smiles and somber masks to bite back laughter— but Ignis chased the sound with a smile and a kiss. “Is that a yes, darling?”

“You’re too serious, Specs. Of course I’m going to accept that oath.”

“Good, because I fear that you may be stuck with me.”


End file.
